<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Cabin in the Snow by Morfox</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27558811">The Cabin in the Snow</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morfox/pseuds/Morfox'>Morfox</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alex Rider Needs a Hug, Alex Rider has PTSD, Alex Rider is So Done, Alex Rider is a Mess, Hurt Alex Rider, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Possibly Pre-Slash, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Yassen Gregorovich Has a Heart, Yassen Gregorovich Lives, not me, who knows - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:08:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,190</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27558811</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morfox/pseuds/Morfox</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex was broken.</p><p>So ridiculously out of his own head that he allowed an assassin to take him away without a second thought.</p><p>Trigger warning: Sexual assault.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Yassen Gregorovich &amp; Alex Rider</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>83</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>194</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi everyone - it’s been a very long time since I last wrote any fan fiction so I’m excited to get back into it!</p><p>I’m hoping for this to be a 5 part piece of work.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Alex pulled the duvet up and over his head. He didn’t care it was the afternoon. He didn’t care he was missing school. He just didn’t care. He felt incapable of even getting up. He had never felt quite this bad before and he didn’t know what to do.</p><p> </p><p>He had only been back at his home in Chelsea for a week. His last mission had landed him in hospital for 2 weeks. The mission he didn’t want to do.</p><p> </p><p>He felt utterly trapped in the hands of MI6. They would never stop using him. They had enough dirt on him now to never let him go. He burrowed further under the duvet, trying to get himself to relax. He hadn’t slept last night. The previous night’s nightmares still lingering on his mind. His eyes felt sore from lack of sleep, his head felt fuzzy and throat felt scratchy from lack of use.</p><p> </p><p>He heard the doorbell go. The sound echoed up the hallway and into his bedroom.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>God. Please not them. I can’t handle this right now. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>He felt panic bubble up inside of him. He couldn’t go on like this. 4 years of missions had finally broken him down.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, hello, are you the therapist?” A beat of silence. “God, it’s just gotten so bad I can’t get him out of bed most days. I’ll get the kettle on – do you want a tea or coffee?” She asked, her feet padding down the hallway. Whoever was at the door hesitated to come in. <em>No doubt surprised at how friendly Jack was.</em> Alex thought to himself.</p><p> </p><p>His heart was still beating out of his chest. He had told MI6 he wouldn’t talk to a therapist. He wouldn’t <em>couldn’t </em> talk about what had happened. Or how he was feeling.</p><p> </p><p>He heard them quietly talking in the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p> “He hasn’t even told me what has happened on the last few missions. I know, I know. Confidential. But he just shuts himself away and won’t talk. I don’t know what else to do,” Alex feels his heart swell with guilt. At the trouble he was causing her. He wishes he could just snap out of it, but he <em>couldn’t. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Let me see him,” A man spoke.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay let me take you up. I must warn you though, he probably won’t want to talk to you”.</p><p> </p><p>The stairs creaked as they climbed them. Then Alex hears a knock at his door in warning before the door slowly opened.</p><p> </p><p>Alex pulled the duvet down and looked up at Jack. He felt dead inside.</p><p> </p><p>“Alex, your therapist is here,” Jack said, stepping forward. Alex pushed himself up onto his elbows.</p><p> </p><p>“Jack, I didn’t -“ He croaked before stopping.</p><p> </p><p>The man stepped forward. <em>No...</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>His eyes met those of Yassen Gregorovich.</p><p> </p><p>He immediately sat up in bed, groaning as the pain shot down his left leg.</p><p>  </p><p>The assassin slowly moved his head from one side to the other. Don’t let her know, it signalled. Alex swallowed. Heart racing. <em>What. <strong>What.</strong></em></p><p> </p><p>Jack walked in further, opened the curtains and the windows allowing a stream of cool air to enter the room. All the while, Alex’s eyes were fixated on the assassin.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll leave you two to it,” Jack said, giving Alex a smile before closing the door after her.  </p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing here?” Alex croaked. He felt Yassen’s eyes on his bare chest, studying the bullet wound scar over his heart. Suddenly feeling exposed he reached down, pulling up a black T-shirt and pulling it over his head.</p><p> </p><p>Yassen’s face didn’t give away anything. Alex never expected it to. But he didn’t know why the assassin was here. In his bedroom. After having, what seemed like, polite conversation with Jack?</p><p> </p><p>“Your housekeeper is...very friendly,” Yassen said, accent now showing. He seemed to analyse Alex for a few moments.</p><p> </p><p>“What happened?” He asked the boy.</p><p> </p><p>Alex visibly paled. “Nothing.” He said/<em>lied. </em>It was a blatant lie, and he knew the man wouldn't appreciated it, but he just didn’t <em>care. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Then why are you in bed at 2pm on a Tuesday?” He asked, eyes piercing a hole in him.</p><p> </p><p>Alex pulled the duvet over him more, feeling self-conscious. How was he supposed to answer that.</p><p> </p><p>At that moment, as if to save him from answering, his phone rang. He looked down and saw the unknown number.</p><p> </p><p>He knew it was them. He knew it. The wave of dizziness caused the room to spin slightly, he put a hand down to ground himself.</p><p> </p><p>He looked to Yassen before accepting the call. “Hello?” He croaked.</p><p> </p><p>“Alex, we need you. We will send a car in 20 minutes.” The voice of Mrs. Jones, came over the phone.</p><p> </p><p>The line went dead. Alex dropped the phone and immediately put his head in his hands, forgetting entirely that a literal assassin was in the room. He felt his chest constrict, panic finding its way in. Panic. <em>Panic.  </em></p><p> </p><p>The man went to move back towards the door, distracting Alex from the overwhelming panic constricting his chest. He looked at Alex, as if assessing something once more. </p><p> </p><p>“Get changed. We leave in 5.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex’s eyebrows creased.</p><p> </p><p>“Wh-what?” Alex stumbled over his words. He started coughing, his voice not used to speaking to anyone.</p><p> </p><p>The man didn’t answer.</p><p> </p><p>“Where?” Alex asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Away from them.” The man had said simply, leaving the room.</p><p> </p><p>A beat of silence.</p><p> </p><p>Then Alex followed.  </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi everyone! Thank you for the kind comments in the reviews - they made my day yesterday! </p><p>For anyone interested, the inspiration I got for the cabin came from this image...<br/>https://www.decoist.com/modern-cabins-on-stilts-norway/gorgeous-pan-cabins-after-sunset/?safari=1</p><p>I hope you enjoy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The car picked up speed as Yassen accelerated along a motorway; outside the window the landscape turned into a spectrum of blues, whites and tarmac greys.</p><p> </p><p>Alex leaned his head against the cool glass. He’d lost track of the number of changes to cars they had made. Quite frankly he thought it was a ridiculous number of changes. But he couldn’t fault the assassin for being thorough.</p><p> </p><p>His left leg throbbed with pain. He wasn’t used to moving it this much and the constant changing of vehicles had only irritated it more.</p><p> </p><p>At one point they had got onto a fisherman’s boat with Yassen handing over an envelope. It was most likely filled with cash in exchange for a discreet journey. No passports were needed, no talk, nothing.</p><p> </p><p>The other side they had a car waiting for them. Alex didn’t want to admit that he was impressed by how Yassen had orchestrated this. No wonder the man had never been captured by MI6.</p><p> </p><p>He looked down at the cane resting against his seat. He hated it. With a passion. But he couldn’t walk more than a few steps without it. It was the first time he’d left the house since getting back from his last mission and he knew it made sense to take it rather than leaving it behind.</p><p> </p><p>The fresh air along the journey had helped, but he still felt so <em>so </em>low inside his chest. He couldn’t shake the feeling. The thought of talking seemed draining but the confusion and curiosity was bubbling up in him <span class="u"></span></p><p> </p><p>He glanced a look at Yassen. The man hadn’t spoken since they had got in the first car. Neither had Alex.</p><p> </p><p>In hindsight, Alex realised he probably should have asked a hell of a lot more questions before willingly getting into the car of a contract killer. But here he was.</p><p> </p><p>“You never said where we were going,” Alex said.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re right. I didn’t.” Yassen confirmed. Alex wanted to pull his hair out. The frustration made him huff out a breath of air.</p><p> </p><p>In the logical part of his brain, he knew the man probably didn’t want Alex to know any details in the slight chance he tried make contact with MI6. After all, Alex didn’t know where he stood with the man. And he had a inkling the man was feeling the same way. But the logical part of Alex’s brain wasn’t processing right now. In fact, it felt like none of his brain was processing at all.</p><p> </p><p>He pulled at the sleeve of his sweater. The adrenaline of running from MI6 had almost fully ebbed away, which now left a void of curiosity at Yassen and guilt at leaving Jack.</p><p> </p><p>No doubt Jack would be concerned that he’d snuck out when she was hanging the washing out. She would be even more concerned after MI6 turned up and informed her that the man she had let into her house, the man she had drank coffee with…had been an assassin<em>. Had been the man that had killed Ian</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He looked at Yassen again, feeling a stone at the bottom of his stomach. How had he forgotten. God, his head up was all over the place.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t know why the man had shown up. And he sure as hell didn’t know why he was now in a car with him in what appeared to be Norway. Or another Scandinavian country.</p><p> </p><p>The man was taking a big risk by taking Alex with him. He had no doubt in his mind that MI6 were attempting to track them. They would have turned up at the house with Alex missing.</p><p> </p><p>The amount of questions Alex had was starting to make him feel dizzy. He’d been with the man for 6 hours now, the sun almost gone behind snowy mountains in the distance. And after 6 hours he was just frankly confused. </p><p> </p><p>“Why?” Alex exclaimed. “Why am I with you? Why are we in…Norway?? Just…<em>why?”</em></p><p> </p><p>Yassen didn’t take his eyes off the road. “Someone’s finally woken up.”</p><p> </p><p>“I haven’t been asleep.” Alex said, anger pumping through his veins at the evasion of yet another question.</p><p> </p><p>“You might as well of been. You’ve basically let a contract killer abduct you.”</p><p> </p><p>Any other time Alex would have had a witty remark to snap back, but his blood went ice cold. <em>Abduct. </em>His mind flashed back to Bangladesh. <em>God. No...</em>His throat constricted; he couldn’t get air. He put a hand to his throat. Struggling. Panic. He couldn’t get air.</p><p> </p><p>He blindly reached for the window button, jamming whatever buttons where on the passenger door. It wouldn’t go down. His eyes frantic, he couldn’t breath. He couldn’t-</p><p> </p><p>The car slowly pulled off the highway and came to a stop at the side of the road. Yassen clicked the lock off and the passenger window started to come down.</p><p> </p><p>Alex took a big breath, filling his lungs before blowing it out and looking out at the landscape. He tried to control his breathing. He kept his eyes fixated outside the passenger window. He sure as hell didn’t want to see what look Yassen was giving him. Disgusted by the sign of weakness? Pity? Or something else? He grabbed his hands together to stop the shakes rattling through him.</p><p> </p><p>God, he was a mess.</p><p> </p><p>………………..</p><p> </p><p>They arrived at a cabin raised up on stilts sometime later after the sun had set and gentle snowfall had started.</p><p> </p><p>It truly was in the middle of nowhere. They had driven up a steep hill for around half an hour with virtually no sign of civilisation. The path was surrounded by high trees covered in snow. The path soon disappeared and Yassen continued driving between the trees, clearly knowing where he was going before coming to a small clearing on top of a cliff.</p><p> </p><p>Whatever Alex had been expecting, this wasn’t it.</p><p> </p><p>It looked almost inviting. The cabin itself was up on stilts with an enclosed spiral staircase winding up from the ground to the front door of the cabin. It was completely secluded.</p><p> </p><p>Yassen got out the car gracefully. Alex, not so much. He grabbed the cane and pushed it into the snow, helping get his injured leg out of the car. They began walking over to the staircase, with Alex trailing behind him considerably slower. He couldn’t help but wonder how on earth he was going to get up that many stairs with his leg. There must have been 3 flights worth of stairs spiralled round.</p><p> </p><p>Yassen opened the metal mesh door and instantly his phone started going off. An alarm. So the doors had sensors on then.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you require assistance?” The man had asked. Alex didn’t think he could handle being touched, let alone by Yassen, so he shook his head.</p><p> </p><p>Yassen started climbing the stairs, going ahead and Alex couldn’t blame the man. He would be here for quite some time.</p><p> </p><p>The first 10 steps weren’t too bad and just when he started to get cocky is when the pain erupted. When did putting one foot in front of the other get so difficult. He thinks back to all the time’s in the last week that Jack had tried to push him to go to Physio.</p><p> </p><p>He couldn’t help but grow frustrated at himself for not going. He should have gone. Maybe it’d be better by now. But he couldn’t leave the house. He could barely muster the strength to get up to shower.</p><p> </p><p>20 minutes later Alex had made it up the stairs. Sweating. Leg throbbing. He felt like he could throw up.</p><p> </p><p>He opened the front door and walked directly into the open floor lounge and kitchen. It was warmly lit and Yassen was in the kitchen, turning on appliances.</p><p> </p><p>“You couldn’t of got somewhere ground floor?” Alex muttered, walking over to the sofa and flopping down. He stretched his leg, pushing down on the the muscles while wincing.</p><p> </p><p>“It is safer this way.” The man responded.</p><p> </p><p>“How can it be safer when you’ve limited yourself to one exit?” Alex asked, looking around and seeing only a front door and a glass door to a balcony facing the cliff. The man raised an eyebrow before walking over to the end cupboard in the kitchen and pulling it open. A parachute. Of course.</p><p> </p><p>“A necessity in any kitchen,” Alex muttered.</p><p> </p><p>But he had to admit that it was quite genius. If the man was ever ambushed up here he would simply jump from the balcony and parachute down over the cliff where he would have most likely a backup vehicle to get into.</p><p> </p><p>The man had now answered two questions. Pushing his luck, he asked more.</p><p> </p><p>“Is this a stop over? Or are we staying here a while?” Alex asked, looking around the room.</p><p> </p><p>“A while,” Yassen responded, looking over at Alex. “A week, maybe two.” He shrugged.</p><p> </p><p>So that’s how long a while meant to Yassen. Alex supposed it came with the job.</p><p> </p><p>Yassen continued. “In between missions I come here to rest and recuperate.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is that why I’m here then?”</p><p> </p><p>Yassen didn’t answer.</p><p> </p><p>“Or was I just the most willing kidnap victim?” Alex snarked, trying to get an answer out of the man.</p><p> </p><p>Yassen’s face remained the same but his eyes had a glint of amusement. God he was confusing.</p><p> </p><p>"I don’t kidnap, I kill.” He said bluntly, walking off into one of the side rooms. If the answer was supposed to put Alex’s mind at ease it did a spectacularly bad job.</p><p> </p><p>Even though the assassin had somewhat answered some of his questions, in his own convoluted way, he was left with more questions than before.</p><p> </p><p>Before he could think of what his next question would be, the assassin came back out and directed Alex to a spare room.</p><p> </p><p>“Sleep.” He said simply. Like it was the easiest thing in the world.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy new year everyone! </p><p>I hope you enjoy 2021 and the 3rd chapter of this fanfic! The remaining chapters are written and just need some (a lot) of editing.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Sleep.” The man had said. But here he was, 6am and still no sleep. After all the travelling from yesterday, he should have been wiped out but he felt anxious. What if he had nightmares?  What if Yassen <em>heard</em> him having nightmares? He didn’t think he could handle it. The thought alone made his cheeks burn red. What if Yassen killed him in his sleep? Unlikely as it was, it was a possibility.</p><p> </p><p>He groaned at the sheer amount of questions and thoughts that pounded through his head.</p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he heard Yassen in the kitchen. There was a gentle clattering as the man went about making his breakfast.</p><p> </p><p>Alex stared at the ceiling. His body ached, his leg throbbed and his eyes were sore from sleep deprivation. He couldn’t bring himself to get up. He just laid there. Under the duvet. Unmoving.</p><p> </p><p>The rational part of his brain reasoned that getting up, having breakfast and stretching his leg would help his low mood. But how could he do any of that when the simple act of getting out of bed seemed impossible?</p><p> </p><p>Clouds passed by in the skies high above as the time ticked on through to the afternoon.</p><p> </p><p>A sense of unease stayed in his chest knowing Yassen was in the house, potentially wondering what the hell was wrong with Alex. Maybe he should of stayed in London. But MI6 had wanted him again....He felt utterly lost and alone. And what would happen when he did go back to London? He hadn’t considered the consequences in the moment of leaving. He would eventually have to go back to face the music. That was enough to make him groan and pull the duvet up and over his head.</p><p> </p><p>Another hour passed and he had an uncomfortable feeling like he was hiding from the man. Yassen probably thought it too. Maybe he was right.</p><p> </p><p>He heard the front door go at one point. He frowned. Curiosity getting the better of him, he pulled himself up and out of bed.</p><p> </p><p>Empty. The lounge was empty. Oh god, had the man just left him?</p><p> </p><p>His eyes landed on a small console table by the front door. A note. He pushed down on his cane and limped slowly over.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I’ve gone to restock the kitchen. Do not leave.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Alex could have laughed. Leave? Where the hell would he go? Would he even make it down the stairs with his leg? Last night was enough to make his leg feel stiff and achey today. Even if he made it down there was no way he would make it to any sort of road.</p><p> </p><p>With a resounding sigh, he turned and went straight back to the room. He flopped down and stared at the ceiling once more.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The sun was starting to set when he pushed himself to get up. He‘d heard the man get back hours ago but yet he still didn’t want to leave the room. He didn’t want to see Yassen. Why had the man just left him to it? He had assumed he’d force him to get up at some point. But here he was, the sun leaving the room in a soft glow. Maybe the man had no idea what to do with Alex either.</p><p> </p><p>He got up slowly, running a hand through his hair. He took a deep breath. Why did it feel like such a <em>feat</em> to just go and get some water.</p><p> </p><p>After opening the door he could see the lounge was dimly lit. It was silent. And empty. His heart thumped unpleasantly. He couldn’t pinpoint why exactly he was feeling nervous.</p><p> </p><p>He stepped forward, making his way to the kitchen. The open plan kitchen lounge on his left and 2 rooms on his right. The bathroom and Yassen’s room. The latter rooms door was open, the light spilling out into the lounge.</p><p> </p><p>He walked <em>limped </em>past, keeping his eyes fixated on the kitchen tap in the distance.</p><p> </p><p>Soft footsteps thudded behind him and he stopped, swallowing.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, if it isn’t sleeping beauty,” Yassen said. Alex turned slowly, aware he probably didn’t look the best with the black bags under his eyes and his skin pale.</p><p> </p><p>A beat of silence.</p><p> </p><p>“..Or not.” Yassen’s eyes narrowed, looking over Alex, taking him in. Alex ignored the increase in his pulse, the tightness in his chest and carried on to the kitchen, intent on getting that glass of water.</p><p> </p><p>He noticed some items out on the counter.  </p><p> </p><p>“Dinner is Coq Au Vin. It’ll be ready for 7.” Yassen said, walking into the lounge and grabbing a cookbook off the bookcase. Alex didn’t know what to think. An assassin, offering to cook. He shook his head.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not hungry,” his voice croaked and he coughed.</p><p> </p><p>“You need to eat something.” The assassin said, walking up to the kitchen counter separating the lounge from the kitchen, so they were both one side. Yassen placed the book on the counter.</p><p> </p><p>Alex looked at the man and made a point of grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl.</p><p> </p><p>“An apple is not sufficient.” Yassen said.</p><p> </p><p>Alex looked away and began walking back in the direction of the spare room.</p><p> </p><p>“No snarky remark?” Yassen played, trying to get a response out of Alex.</p><p> </p><p>The sound of the bedroom door closing gently behind Alex echoed into the lounge.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The next two days carried on the same. Alex not leaving the bedroom unless to grab some fruit or a glass of water.</p><p> </p><p>Yassen had not offered dinner again. Instead putting an apple on a plate for Alex – it was meant to be mocking. But alex didn’t <em>care. </em>He was done. His heart was low. So <em>so</em> low. He felt dead inside.</p><p> </p><p>Why had Yassen brought him here. It seemed like there was no purpose. Unless he really was here to rest and recuperate…the man had never confirmed. That still didn’t answer the question why he had shown up in Little Chelsea at all though?</p><p> </p><p>More questions bombarded him and he pinched his nose. His head swam and he closed his eyes again.</p><p> </p><p>This was the 3<sup>rd</sup> day he had been here and he didn’t feel well rested. He felt anything but. Yassen had left him alone to spiral down and down. Maybe that was the plan. For him to hit rock bottom. Jack had always been pushing him to eat, to talk, to get up. But none of that had helped. Maybe this was for the best. After all, it’s what Alex wanted wasn’t it?</p><p> </p><p>There was no sun today.</p><p> </p><p>Not even a glimmer of sunshine as the clouds drifted past. And he didn’t find any satisfaction upon realising the weather matched his mood.</p><p> </p><p>Towards 4pm the clouds got darker. Stormy weather was brewing.</p><p> </p><p>Alex pushed himself to get up. But even pushing himself up onto his elbows was a struggle. His arms shook, trembling under his weight. He swallowed and pushed through.</p><p> </p><p>After getting to his feet the room starts swaying and he has to sit down again to stop the black dots from consuming his vision. His chest raises and falls as he takes deep breaths.</p><p> </p><p>God he feels so weak.</p><p> </p><p>After a second shaky attempt to stand, he uses his cane to limp forward. Much slower than the previous few days.</p><p> </p><p>He forces himself to walk through the lounge, using his cane more and more. His eyes can’t focus on anything. His head is thumping with a headache. He should have stayed in bed, is his first thought. He can’t concentrate. He feels drunk. Drowsy. Ill.</p><p> </p><p>He makes it to the sink and grabs a mug, careful not to drop it. He’s shaking so bad. He thought he might just collapse on the spot.</p><p> </p><p>Caffeine. That’ll help.</p><p> </p><p>The logical part of his brain screamed that he just needs sleep and some form of food. But he reaches forward and pushes the button on the kettle.</p><p> </p><p>A clatter echos out through the kitchen as the cane falls on the floor. He grips the counter so hard his knuckles turn white.</p><p> </p><p>Just as the black dots return to his vision again he hears a car. Outside the window, he can see Yassen pulling up.</p><p> </p><p>His whole body is out of energy, he slumps further over the counter on his elbows. It was a struggle to remain standing. He just focussed on the steady increase of sound emitting from the kettle.</p><p> </p><p>He hears footsteps come in as the kettle rumbles louder. The footsteps stop quickly, as if surprised. Then he hears a set of keys slowly be put down.</p><p> </p><p>Alex tries to push himself up, but he feels numb. His eyes are glazed and unfocused, his breathing laboured. He tries to focus on taking one breath in and then exhaling slowly.</p><p> </p><p>He feels a hand on his back. And surprises himself by not jumping. He’s totally and utterly spent. The days without food and the nights without sleep finally catching up on him.</p><p> </p><p>The kettle finally steams. He slowly reaches forward for the jar of coffee, arms trembling.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” a gentle voice next to him. Someone is holding his wrist, so gently.</p><p> </p><p>He legs start to shake as he is helped stand up straighter and off the counter. He leans heavily on the person and limps forward at an agonising slow pace. The hand on his back remains steady.</p><p> </p><p>Everything is so fuzzy. Is he drunk? Oh god, maybe he’s been poisoned? </p><p> </p><p>“No, you just need rest.” A voice says. He vaguely wonders if he asked his questions out loud. A moment later a cover is over him. Wait, when did he get on the sofa?</p><p> </p><p>Then a glass of water is in front of him. Time jumping forward at unexpected intervals.</p><p> </p><p>He thought he felt a hand go through his hair. But as soon as it started it had gone. His head spun and spun and spun. He groaned.</p><p> </p><p>The heaters flicked on and Alex opened his eyes just long enough to see Yassen walk over to the kitchen counter.</p><p> </p><p>He could hear noises in the kitchen. Small noises of Yassen cooking and cutting. It was oddly soothing. He could feel himself he pulled under the cover of sleep. He felt his body relax further into the sofa. A few moments later soft classical music was playing, enough to send Alex over and into a deep sleep.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Much later that evening Alex woke up and, after a few moments of pure confusion, said an embarrassed hello to Yassen who was sat in the armchair.</p><p> </p><p>Half an hour later he accepted a bowl of soup from Yassen, who gave a slight nod of approval.</p><p> </p><p>His hands were still shaky and his appetite hadn’t full returned, but he tried. It was still a feat in itself, but it no longer felt impossible.</p><p> </p><p>The music continued to play into the night as Yassen turned the pages in the book he read. Alex couldn’t make out the title from where he sat but assumed it was some sort of Russian literature.</p><p> </p><p>He took a deep breath and closed his eyes again, settling against the pillows. The light in the room was warm and so was his stomach after the soup. And as the classical music played out he was surprised to find that he preferred to be out here with the assassin than alone in the bedroom with only his own thoughts as company.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you everyone for the kind comments - they really do make my day!</p><p>It’s been a long while since I have written anything so apologies if there are any glaringly obvious grammatical errors.</p><p>Have a great week everyone! 😊</p><p>Warning: Implied sexual assault in this chapter. Nothing explicit.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Alex had made it back to the spare bedroom that night. After the warm bowl of soup and a relaxing evening he fell asleep in his bed instantly.</p><p> </p><p>But with sleep, came the nightmares.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>Sweat dripped off his forehead onto his knees. He blinked and saw red. Blood? He shifted uncomfortably with pain vibrating through his whole body.</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>He tried to lift his head. Agony. He tried to move his arms. Chained.</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>He shook his head, with droplets of sweat and blood flying in all directions. His head throbbed but he slowly started to realise where he was. Bangladesh. The trap he had unwittingly walked into.</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>He squirmed again. The chair he sat in was uncomfortable and covered in blood. His own.</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>A groan threatened to escape his lips but he clenched his fists instead. He wouldn’t show the interrogator any sign of weakness. He would not break. Even if he felt broken inside. Beyond broken.</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>He’d pushed the panic button in his cufflink days ago which would have signalled to MI6 that he needed urgent assistance. He couldn’t tell if 3 days had past or a week. But no one had come. He couldn’t say he was surprised. But this was the time it counted. This was the time….</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>Alex’s stomach rolled, bile rising in his throat. He tried pushing the memories from his head. He’d been tortured before but never like <span class="u">this</span>. His palms grew sweaty and he put his effort into keeping his breathing steady.</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>The room was dinghy and bleak with no windows. The only people he’d been in contact with was a young man in his 20’s, most likely European, who had delighted in torturing Alex and he’d had an <span class="u">encounter</span> with a Bangladeshi guard called Dameer.</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>Dameer.</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>His stomach tightened once more. And panic set in thrumming through his veins.</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>Time jumped forward.</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>“Alex!”</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>Ben Daniels appeared in his vision, alarm evident on his face. Alex couldn’t tell if he was real or if the torture had sent him over the edge into insanity. A sharp slap to the face not only startled him but made his eyes refocus.</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>He looked down and saw an impossible amount of blood. Ben’s hands were wrapped around his thigh gripping tightly.</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>“Snake! Gunshot wound! Get in here!” Ben shouted, putting more pressure on his leg. Alex’s eyes glazed over as he admired the circle of deep blood oozing out of him. Dizziness set in as his eyes began to drift shut.</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>“Stay awake, Alex. We’re here now. We’ve got you. Everything’s going to be okay.”</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>But it wasn’t. Nothing would be okay again. The warm feel of Dameer’s hands trailing up his thigh to his….</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Alex sat up in bed panting. Sweat dripped down off his temple. God no.</p><p> </p><p>He ripped the damp sheets off him which had been twisted around his legs. His heart raced as he clambered to his feet, stumbling into the dresser. He half limped, half clawed his way out of his room and round to the bathroom.</p><p> </p><p>The door slammed behind him just as he collapsed forward onto his knees and dry heaved into the toilet bowl. His hands gripped the cool porcelain as his stomach convulsed.</p><p> </p><p>Alex blamed the cold tile floor for the shakes rattling through him. But he couldn’t find an excuse for the tears dripping down his face.</p><p> </p><p>He sat back against the bathtub and put his head in his hands.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
20 minutes later he gained the strength to stand and wash his face before leaving the bathroom. Upon opening the door he saw that Yassen was in the armchair. Great.</p><p> </p><p>The man glanced up as Alex limped forward a step. God this was embarrassing. Their eyes stayed on each other for a moment too long before Yassen got up and walked to him, cane in hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Want to talk about it?” The man asked, deliberately casual and cool.</p><p> </p><p>“No.” Alex said, shaper than he had intended. “Thanks,” he added, eyes averted.</p><p> </p><p>Yassen rolled his eyes and muttered something to the akin of “typical British politeness” and began walking to the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>Alex followed him, considerably slower, and perched on one of the breakfast bar stools. His mind was flooded with images of his last mission and so he tried to focus on the present. On Norway. On the cabin. On Yassen.</p><p> </p><p>“I still don’t understand why I’m here,” Alex said, resting his cane against the counter.</p><p> </p><p>“Breakfast?” The man said, walking over to the fruit bowl near Alex.</p><p> </p><p>“What-“ Alex started.</p><p> </p><p>“A meal customary eaten in the morning.” The man said deadpanned. Alex’s temper flared.</p><p> </p><p>“We are on opposite sides.”</p><p> </p><p>“Says who? Neither of us are working right now,”  Yassen said, off handedly slicing fruit up.</p><p> </p><p>“We are supposed to be enemies.”</p><p> </p><p>“I could always tie you up for a bit” the man said, not hiding his mirth. What <strong><em>what.</em></strong> Alex swallowed, his neck heating up. He was vaguely aware that the thought of being tied up didn’t set off a panic attack.</p><p> </p><p>Before Alex had thought himself into a headache a bowl of chopped fruit was put down in front of him. He noted it was mainly made up on apple. He glanced up to see if the man had done it mockingly again, but he had his back to him as he washed up.</p><p> </p><p>Alex frowned. The man was a cold hearted killer and yet here he was doing <em>washing up.</em> Alex knew in his heart that these chores were done by everyone, but seeing a contract killer do them was a surreal experience. A human experience.</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head and ate.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The rest of the day had gone quickly. Alex had stayed out in the lounge all day, his bad leg resting on top of the coffee table.</p><p> </p><p> Yassen did indeed have a few books that were in English, so Alex had spent the day devouring them. Desperate to escape from his own head for a few hours.</p><p> </p><p>The man had been busy on the phone for the most part of the day. While he wasn’t on the phone Alex heard quick but quiet typing on a laptop in the mans bedroom.</p><p> </p><p>Just as the darkness started to come over the cabin the rain started. It didn’t start slow. It went from 0 to 100.</p><p> </p><p>Alex glanced at the balcony doors opposite him as the rain pelted down hard. He frowned and tried to focus on the pages of the book again.</p><p> </p><p>“You should move your leg more.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex jumped, unaware the man had walked up behind him.</p><p> </p><p>“You sound like Jack,” Alex muttered, absentmindedly stretching his bad leg.</p><p> </p><p>Yassen walked over to the thermostat and started pushing the buttons before saying “There is a private gym in the local town which I frequent. You are welcome to join the next time I go.” He said simply, curtly.</p><p> </p><p>He then walked over to the balcony door checking it was locked before turning to face Alex.</p><p> </p><p>“I have business I need to take care of tonight.” He wearily eyed Alex. “Can you handle being alone for the night?”</p><p> </p><p>Alex’s heart leapt.</p><p> </p><p>No. <em>No.</em></p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” His mouth betrayed him. The man nodded before going off to grab a bag from his bedroom. Alex’s heart thumped as he racked his brain for the reason for his panic.</p><p> </p><p>And as the assassin grabbed the car keys from the console table Alex couldn’t help but wonder why being apart from the man had made him feel so uneasy.  </p><p> </p><p>He shook his head, hoping to expel the thought altogether and stared intently at the pages of his book. Despite not taking a word in.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As the night stretched on, his foot tapped more. As the rain pelted against the window, the more deep slow breaths he forced himself to take.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The more he tried to distract himself by reading, the more his mind revolted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was alone. Totally alone. Knowing Yassen had popped out in the day had been different. He knew the man could be back at any moment. But <em>this. </em>It was the first time in a month he had been in a place by himself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The last time he’d been alone, Dameer had-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He abruptly sat up straight, leaving the book discarded at his side. He needed to focus on something else to keep the flashbacks at bay. Grabbing his cane, he stood and begun pacing the length of the lounge. His eye caught the clock on the oven. 23:48.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He brought up a hand to pinch his nose. It was going to be a long night.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>Dameer leaned forward, grabbing his face. </em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He flinched and roughly scrubbed at his eyes. The cane made thuds on the floor as he went back to pacing again, breathing heavier.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>He grabbed his jeans, ripping off the button.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He shook his head. <em>Stop it stop it stop it</em>. He berated himself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He tried to turn to pace back again but his chest was so tight. The overwhelming feeling of being trapped was all consuming. His eyes frantically flickered around him, breathing faster with every second that past.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>He took several deep breaths but it did nothing to curb the rising panic infiltrating every fibre of his being. He scanned the room, trying to latch onto anything that would help and his eyes came across the door on the other side.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The balcony.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His hand gripped tightly onto the cane as he stumbled over to the door, desperate to get fresh air and to hopefully halt the start of a panic attack.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He opened the door ready to step out onto the wooden balcony and was met with icy rain sweeping down. It wasn’t as hard as it had been earlier, but Alex wouldn’t have noticed anyway. He stepped out and closed the door behind him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He moved forward towards the rail. He hadn’t realised the cliff was directly over the balcony. He knew it was close but didn’t assume it’d be right there. If he fell off the balcony that would be it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>No more life.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>No more <em>pain.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>His eyes widened, horrified, by his own intrusive thoughts. Yet he couldn’t stop staring down into the abyss.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Although the panic had slowed, a wave of anger was bubbling up. Burning him up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The earlier flashbacks coiled around his heart painfully as he clenched his teeth together hard.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s not fair,” he muttered, furiously. His hand gripped the rail tighter and he looked out with narrow eyes across the cliff into the dark Norwegian wilderness. His thoughts raced a mile an hour as he huffed out angry breaths. Hot anger was in his stomach making his breaths come out faster and harsher by the minute. And he had a horrible sensation that he was breaking from the inside out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dameer. Dameer. Dameer. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. <em>It wasn’t fair.</em></p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>He wasn’t fully aware when he had started shouting, all he knew was that he couldn’t stop. The anger projecting out of him in raspy shouts echoing off the silent landscape.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why me!” He shouted, his knuckles turning white on the rail. He needed to do something. Anything. To stop the feeling of breaking inside. He raised an arm and viscously pinched his other arm hard enough to bruise. The small relief didn’t last long but it had helped him feel a semblance of control. And then he fully understood why people self harmed. He swallowed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He took his hand away and hit the railing with his palm, gasping for breath through the anger. He shouted more, about how <em>unfair </em>things were. Not just what had happened in Bangladesh.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Anger coursed through every fibre of his being. Nothing about his life had been fair. From his parents dying, to Ian dying, to MI6, to Bangladesh….</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then he screamed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>High and guttural. And long. His eyes were squeezed shut and his stomach was tensed as his scream continued on.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was harrowing to his own ears. His body expelled the last of his anger with a croak before he slumped over the rail, resting his head on his arms, and started openly sobbing.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Alex didn’t know how long he had stayed out there. It felt like hours. His clothes were plastered against him and he was violently shivering, fingers tinged blue.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was a mess. He’d never reached that kind of breaking point before and he prayed to god he wouldn’t experience it again. The rage and despair had gone and he was left freezing cold to his core.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Upon returning inside, he grabbed a towel and began patting himself down. He scrubbed it over his head for a few seconds and dropped the towel in the tub. He would change clothes in a minute after he had made himself a hot drink to hold in his frigid hands.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was on the walk <em>limp</em> to the kitchen that it happened. The downstairs stair alarm was triggered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He spun around, body fully tensed as he took in the front door. Painful, long seconds past as the alarm was turned off and footsteps could be heard ascending the staircase.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The pounding of his own heart began to drown out the sound. He gripped at his chest. He could hear himself panting in short harsh bursts. <em>Too much panic. </em></p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>He clawed at his chest. Oh god. He couldn’t breath. His heart. He was going to die. Before whatever intruder came to get him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He didn’t hear the jangle of keys.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The lock turned and the familiar face of Yassen entered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The overwhelming relief from Alex made his knees buckle and caused him to slide down the kitchen wall. His chest continued to rapidly rise and fall as he struggled to contain the panic.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The business meeting was a success and the drive back to the cabin was shorter than anticipated despite the rain pounding down on his car giving less than ideal visibility.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The man he had met had insisted on doing his business deals inside a nightclub, much to Yassen’s displeasure. The nightclub had at least been high end rather than one with a sticky floor and overcrowded by intoxicated college students. He had been invited to stay until it closed at 6am, which had felt like more of a <em>strong</em> suggestion than a friendly offer. But here he was at 3am pulling up outside the cabin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Staying in the nightclub wouldn’t have benefited him in any way, seeing as their deal had been completed and the business man had got steadily drunker as the night wore on. It may have been to do with Yassen plying the man with alcohol, but that was neither here nor there.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If he was honest with himself, he wanted to get back to the cabin. Who knew what Hunters son could get up to when left unsupervised. He didn’t allow himself to think of Alex’s current emotional state.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He closed the car door and turned off the door alarm when he reached the encased staircase. The alarm would be an annoyance to the boy, but Yassen highly suspected the boy would be awake given his obvious insomnia.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>What he didn’t suspect was the reaction.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Upon opening the front door, he saw Alex in the kitchen in the throes of a panic attack. After they caught eyes he saw the boy slide down the wall onto the floor.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before Alex had hit the floor, he had his gun out and pushed open the bedroom doors, assessing the cabin for any threat. Once he considered the place secure he cautiously approached the boy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He stopped a few feet from the boy and knelt down taking him in. He frowned, noticing the boy was dripping wet. What had happened while he had been gone?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Breath.” The boy didn’t move, his head was resting on his arms, knees up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He edged closer to Alex, listening to each painful breath.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Slower,” he instructed the boy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Just as his breaths started to even out, he raised his head and rested it against the wall. Eyes closed. And took several deep breaths. No one had seen him like this before. Hell, even he hadn’t seem himself like this. He slowly opened his eyes and took in the expressionless face of the assassin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do you want to talk about it?” The man asked, not taking his eyes off Alex.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alex shook his head and then, surprising even himself, leaned over to the side and vomited over the kitchen floor. He clutched at his stomach with a moan and rested his head back against the wall. He closed his eyes counted to 10.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Talking won’t undo what happened.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After a silent minute Alex opened his eyes but the look on Yassen’s face was indecipherable.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re wet.” Yassen said, accent stronger than usual. Alex just nodded, ignoring the silent question as to <em>how</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Come on,”  the assassin said, as he reached out a hand for Alex to take. “We will talk anyway,” he added as he guided a shaky Alex to one of the high stools at the kitchen counter.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alex put his head down on the cool table instantly; despite being frozen to death the cool surface soothed his head. His arms came up and wrapped around his head too, needing a minute to compose himself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When he finally looked up he noticed the vomit was gone and Yassen was washing up in the sink.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sorry, that was really gross.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I have handled worse.” And once more, the assassin had tried to put him at ease but ended up with the opposite effect. It only served as a reminder to Alex the world they both inhibited.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yassen turned around and leaned backwards against the sink, so he was facing Alex. He frowned, looking over Alex’s face, wet clothes and slumped position.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alex-“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I can’t talk about it, Yassen.” Alex interrupted. “I just can’t.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The man stared at Alex for a moment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not going to force you to talk about it. I want you to know that I’m an option, should you wish to talk to someone.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>I’m an option. </em> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Such a simple admission, but one that confused Alex to no end. He’d always considered Yassen to be…well, different.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I didn’t expect you to be like this.” Alex said, voicing his thoughts.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Like I said, we aren’t on opposite sides,” the man said before adding “at the moment at least ” with a small smile at the end.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you independent then?” Alex asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No.” Yassen said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“SCORPIA?” But he didn’t get an answer back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If it is SCORPIA, then you should know we are definitely on opposite sides.” Alex stated, matter of factly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And why do you say that?” The man was looking at him, eyes narrow and inspecting.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Because of what I did, obviously. To Rothman?” Alex said, a bit exasperated. It was obvious.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I see.” Yassen said, turning away and Alex had a weird sensation that Yassen was keeping something from him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wh-“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You should try to sleep more. It’s still very early.”Alex frowned at the deflection. Any other time he would have pushed but he was <em>tired</em>. Right down to the core.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He glanced over at the spare room and cringed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not tired,” Alex lied.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Very well.” Yassen replied, nonchalant. “Take a shower and warm up at least” Yassen said and walked to the front door to grab his bag which lay on the floor.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The shower did wonders for Alex. He couldn’t help the sigh that escaped him as the hot water pelted down against his frozen skin. He hadn’t realised how badly he’d needed this. It only took a few minutes for him to change and re enter the room but as he limped in he stopped. Yassen’s bag was placed on the high chair he had been sitting in. He frowned as he surveyed his other options.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As he sat down into the sofa he sunk deep into the cushions and marvelled at how overwhelmingly comfy it was. He settled in further and pulled the sleeves of his sweater over his hands.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yassen walked over from the kitchen with a steaming mug and set it down on the coffee table. Alex’s eyebrows knitted together as he tried to decipher what it was.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Valerian tea.” The man said, anticipating the question. Alex’s brows stayed together.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The sound of heaters being switched on made him look round to Yassen. Then the lights started to dim to a low level. Almost too low to read in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yassen reappeared and moved his laptop over to the armchair, where he had sat the other night. When the man turned on soft classical music at a faint volume is when Alex knew what the man was doing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t need coddling,” Alex said. He would have been a lot more convincing if his eyes lids weren’t closing involuntarily.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay.” The man said simply.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A moment later a blanket was throw in Alex’s direction, hitting him gently in the head.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for all the kind reviews everyone – I can’t describe how much they really do make my day. </p>
<p>I’ve changed the length from 5 chapters to 12 because I keep adding things to the story which prolong it more and more. And I’ve got a draft plan for a potential sequel which I may of may not be working on 👀</p>
<p>Happy Thursday evening everyone!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Good morning/evening everyone and welcome to chapter 6! Thank you so much to everyone writing comments – I can’t tell you how much they make my day when I see the notification come through. And thank you to everyone for reading! I hope you enjoy this next chapter! </p><p>Morfox</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Yassen sat in the armchair, trying to focus on the laptop and not on the sleeping teenager across from him. Trying, and failing, so it would seem.</p><p> </p><p>Leaving the boy alone for the best part of the night had been an unfortunate necessity. However, leaving the key to the balcony door had been a massive oversight on his part. He glanced over to the boy, now dry and under a blanket.</p><p> </p><p>Why had he been out on the balcony? He glanced back over to where the door was, where the puddles had been. He looked out the window and could see the sun starting to rise over the horizon. Just past the…cliff. He swallowed.</p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t out of his depth. He wasn’t.</p><p> </p><p>He looked back to his laptop, forcing himself to focus.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>It was still the early morning when Alex awoke. He slowly took in a deep breath and stretched his legs out but was startled to find them hit the end of….the sofa? He opened his eyes and immediately found himself frowning. His eyebrows remained creased as he sat up and looked down at the sofa, feeling confused as to why he was asleep on it.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” He said quietly, as the penny dropped and last night came flooding back to him.</p><p> </p><p>He looked around and was startled to see that Yassen was still sat in the armchair, eyes focussed on his laptop. A wave of pre breakfast guilt hit him. So the man hadn’t slept and it was definitely entirely Alex’s fault.</p><p> </p><p>He stretched his bad leg out in front of him and considered that he felt well rested for a change.</p><p> </p><p>He bitterly thought how the sea saw of exhaustion had swung in his favour.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re awake.” Yassen said, from across the room. Alex nodded.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“I’m going to the gym in the next hour, if you would like to join.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex simply shook his head. It was a nice offer, but he didn’t want to get in the mans way more than he was already. Besides, what could he even do with his leg?</p><p> </p><p>Like clockwork, exactly an hour later Yassen had grabbed his duffel bag from the bedroom and walked into the lounge.</p><p> </p><p>Upon sensing eyes were on him, Alex looked up from his book. The assassin was staring at him, as if weighing something up.</p><p> </p><p>“This is no longer an offer. You are coming whether you like it or not.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex frowned. He found that he didn’t really mind being dragged along as well as begrudgingly admitting that he quite liked the assassins company.</p><p> </p><p>“As your hostage?” Alex asked, feeling playful.</p><p> </p><p>“Something like that.” The man muttered, shaking his head.</p><p> </p><p>Alex grabbed his cane and very cautiously made his way down the steps, being careful not to slip on the thick layer of ice that had formed overnight.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>It took about 30 minutes for them to pull up to the private gym. The sky was dark for the daytime, but there was no rain for a change.</p><p> </p><p>The gym itself was small, with blacked out windows and a self check in system. There was a main room with equipment, and 2 smaller side rooms with mats and weights. The whole place seemed completely empty, aside from just the one member of staff.</p><p> </p><p>Alex spotted a bench before he limped over and sat down, fully intending on reading the time away.</p><p> </p><p>“Read later.” Yassen said, walking up to Alex and taking the book from him.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not like I can do anything anyway,” Alex frowned, with a pointed look at his leg.</p><p> </p><p>“There’s plenty you can do.” Yassen said, gesturing the boy to follow him. Alex frowned, and followed the man.</p><p> </p><p>He had expected Yassen to go off and do his own thing, but here he was helping Alex with the physio on his leg. He didn’t know whether to feel awkward or not at the amount the man was doing for him.</p><p> </p><p>“So not only are you my chef but my personal trainer now too?” Alex quipped, smirking.</p><p> </p><p>“And I guess that would make you my class clown?” Yassen countered, raising an eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>Alex pouted before going back to more leg exercises.</p><p> </p><p>After an hour Yassen had finally gone to focus on his own workout, throwing Alex’s book back in his direction. Alex had frowned at the book before gently setting it down on the bench.</p><p> </p><p>He was able to achieve more with his leg today than he had in weeks. And it felt good. To have that control back.</p><p> </p><p>He stood up and headed for the weights, determined to work at getting back to the same fitness levels he had been before the accident.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It wasn’t until they walked towards the exit that it really set in that maybe he’d pushed himself too hard. His body ached and he was consumed with the thought of just wanting to be <em>better</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Getting back to the car had been a slight problem. His legs were shaky and struggled to support him even with the addition of his cane. Needless to say, the walk to the car had been more of a graceless stumble.  </p><p> </p><p>He put his seatbelt on as Yassen pulled out of the car parking space, and before they were back on the main road Alex had put his head gently against the window.</p><p> </p><p>The rest of the drive was spent in a doze as he zoned in and out. He didn’t realise they were back until Yassen was gently touching his shoulder. He opened his eyes, looking up at the cabin.</p><p> </p><p>And his eyes immediately landed on the tall spiralled staircase.</p><p> </p><p>Fuck.</p><p> </p><p>After pushing open the car door he pushed down hard on the cane to get to his feet.</p><p> </p><p>Oh god, he doesn’t think he can make it. But there’s no way in hell he’ll ask for help. He can feel Yassen’s eyes on him and he pushes forward, forcing his muscles to stop trembling with over exertion. When did he get so weak? He blocks the thought for his head. He was fine. Everything was fine.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you require assistance?” The man asked, once they reached the bottom of the staircase. Alex shook his head, waiting for the man to go up the stairs ahead of him. A few moments of tense silence followed, Alex kept his eyes averted on the floor. Another moment passed before Yassen finally stepped forward and went up them.</p><p> </p><p>Okay. Step one - avoid embarrassment, succeeded. Step two - actually get up these god forsaken stairs.</p><p> </p><p>His arms trembled as he put one hand on the rail. He looked up as he heard the front door click shut. He took a deep breath and put one foot on the stairs. This is fine. He can do this.</p><p> </p><p>Not even 6 steps later, he slipped on the ice.</p><p> </p><p>It felt like a millennia from the moment he knew he was falling until the impact hit him. And it <em>hurt. </em>Of course he just <em>had</em> to land on his bad leg. Right next to the bullet wound. The sound of him falling echoed up the staircase in loud metal clangs.</p><p> </p><p>It took everything in his power to not scream out at the excruciating pain. He scrunched his eyes up tightly, his breath coming out in harsh bursts, waiting for the pain to pass. His vision had white spots behind his eyelids and his blood thumped through his veins painfully.</p><p> </p><p>Just as it started to simmer to a deep ache, he heard the front door open above him. Panic flooded his veins. No, no. He could do this. He didn’t need help.</p><p> </p><p>He grabbed onto the bar, intent on pulling himself up. He clenched his teeth as he pulled harder, but it was futile. His energy was at 0. He was spent. </p><p> </p><p>As Yassen stepped down the last few steps, he slowed, taking in the boy.</p><p> </p><p>Alex’s cheeks flushed red and he purposefully dipped his head down. He couldn’t look at the man. Step 1 had failed. Miserably.</p><p> </p><p>Yassen came down and knelt beside him. Then slowly, ever so slowly, moved his hands forward until they rested under Alex’s knees and behind his back. The assassin waited a few seconds, for an objection, Alex realised. He kept quiet, unable to speak, face kept down.</p><p> </p><p>The man stood, relatively effortlessly, and started up the stairs with Alex in his arms. Alex closed his eyes tightly, the red of his cheeks still firmly on his face. He burnt of shame.</p><p> </p><p>He had thought he was getting stronger, what with the successful gym session, but this setback just cemented the fact he was weak to the bone. His eyes started burning and his clenched his teeth together more to stop tears from forming. He could barely eat, he could barely sleep……and now even the simple act of going up some stairs seemed impossible. His squeezed his eyes shut more, overcome with pure shame.</p><p> </p><p>“You are not weak.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex’s heart constricted painfully at the statement.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy Saturday y’all! </p><p>Apologies that this chapter is a bit late. I wanted to focus on the Febuwhump challenge and just general life got in the way - so thank you for sticking with me! </p><p>As always, I appreciate every single comment ❤️. I can’t quite convey just how much they really make my day!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Alex had spent the remainder of the day on the sofa after Yassen had deposited him there following the fall. He spent the first hour starting a new book <em>The Hobbit</em> but after rereading the same paragraph for the 5<sup>th</sup> time he had turned into the cushions and dozed on and off.</p><p> </p><p>The rain hammering against the glass windows jolted him awake. The sky was now dark and he sensed the worst of the storm was still to come. It wasn’t long before Yassen announced that dinner was ready.</p><p> </p><p>As he made his way over to the counter, he noticed that the man had moved one of the high stools to the other side so they would be facing each other. This was new, they hadn’t eaten dinner together before.</p><p> </p><p>On the counter there were 2 bowls of some sort of soup. Alex frowned at the dumplings swimming within. He had never been a fan of them and he hoped the disdain didn’t show on his face.</p><p> </p><p>The next 10 minutes were spent in silence as Yassen ate. Alex picked at it, trying to take small sips every now and then – avoiding the dumplings. It wasn’t like he <em>wasn’t</em> hungry. Especially after that intense session at the gym. He just struggled to get an appetite after …what had happened. His stomach always felt tight and tense.</p><p> </p><p>“Perhaps you should tell me your favourite foods?” Yassen had asked, as he put down his spoon. Alex looked down at the food left his own bowl and felt guilt settle in his stomach alongside the small amount of soup he’d eaten.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry,” Alex said quietly, as he stirred the soup with his spoon. “I like the soup, just not the….dumplings.”</p><p> </p><p>“Pelmeni.” At Alex’s look of confusion he continued, “A Russian delicacy.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is this your favourite dinner?” Alex asked, looking up. Did the man even have favourite foods?</p><p> </p><p> “Preferences will get you killed in this line of work.” Alex nodded, he hadn’t expected an answer anyway. Yassen seemed to consider him for a moment before saying, “But yes, Alex, I enjoy it.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex pretended like the answer didn’t phase him, but internally his mind whirled. The man had just given him some oddly personal information that he doubted he shared with anyone else. A potential favourite food. There was perhaps a man beneath the cold assassin exterior. And that just confused Alex to no end.</p><p> </p><p>He had always thought of Yassen as a ruthless murderer who had killed his uncle in cold blood. But now? Now, he wasn’t so sure.</p><p> </p><p>He also marvelled at how he kept forgetting the man had killed Ian. And why it didn’t bother him nearly as much as it should. He could see in his peripheral that Yassen was looking at him. He focussed on clearing his head before he went back to eating again, conscious to make an effort and try the pelmeni.</p><p> </p><p>Alex managed to eat over half. Which is progress but not nearly as much as he should be eating. But still, it’s progress. And he’s happy with that. Things were looking up.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Or not, as fate would have it. For he’d only been asleep for an hour before the nightmares started.</p><p>
  <strong>
    
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Dameer grabbed his face forcefully. </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Dameer tightened the cuffs on his wrists. </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Dameer pulled Alex’s boxers down…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Dameer pulled his own down…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Dameer had forced himself in…</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    
  </strong>
</p><p>He jolted awake, gasping for breath like a starved man. He couldn’t breath. He struggled to draw in deep breaths as his eyes welled up with unwanted tears. It was all too much, he felt like he was breaking all over again.</p><p> </p><p>He rolled over and pressed his head into the pillow, muffling the pained noises coming out of his throat. His shoulders started to shudder uncontrollably as big sobs erupted through his body. Behind his eyelids he could see the scene replaying over and over again.</p><p> </p><p>He sat up sharply, tearing the duvet off of him. He needed air. He needed something.</p><p> </p><p>Outside, the wind viciously whipped around the cabin, the rain battering against the glass harshly. The noise kept him on edge and he wasn’t surprised to find goosebumps forming up his arms.</p><p> </p><p>He put his feet on the floor and rested his pounding head in his hands. He closed his eyes to try and calm his throbbing head and was met with the feeling of wet eyelashes on his heated cheeks. God he felt miserable to the bone.</p><p> </p><p>Moments later the shakes started and he had to hold himself tight to stop the worst of the tremors wracking through his body.</p><p> </p><p>He took a few more deep breathes before he stood up on shaky legs, reaching for his cane. A short walk to the kitchen and a glass of water would help, he told himself.</p><p> </p><p>On the walk the storm continued to rage outside the cabin. Another negative of staying in a cabin this high up aside from the sheer amount of stairs– the intense winds. The rain stopped momentarily as the wind changed direction and it left the cabin in an eerily quiet. All he could hear were his ragged breaths as he struggled to get oxygen in again.</p><p> </p><p>The silence was deafening and he hurried to grab a glass from the counter. As he turned to the tap the wind changed back and the rain resumed its pelting against the glass. The sudden onset of noise was enough to send Alex over the edge.</p><p> </p><p>His breath started to come out in choked gasps and he tried to steady himself on the counter, but it was futile. He couldn’t breath. Panic was sweeping away his vision. A blast of thunder made him flinch so violently the glass slipped through his fingers.</p><p>The sound of glass shattering violently on the floor was enough to snap him back to the present.</p><p> </p><p>He paled. And then without thinking, he dropped to his knees and started picking up the shards of glass with his bare hands. Fuck fuck fuck.</p><p> </p><p>The master bedroom door opened quickly and the expressionless face of Yassen came into view. He didn’t look panicked but Alex knew from the speed of which the man opened the door that he was alarmed.  </p><p> </p><p>He stopped and analysed Alex, who was still picking up the shards of glass without a care for his own safety. Sticky blood had started oozing out his palms and a few drops made little pitter patters on the floor, mimicking the weather outside. Huh, he hadn’t noticed it had been cutting him. He didn’t feel anything. He only felt a strange sort of numbness over his body.</p><p> </p><p>Alex kept his head low, unwilling to look up at the man. He was focussing all his efforts on keeping his choked gasps to a minimum while simultaneously trying to stop the uncontrollable shaking.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Alex said quietly, swallowing.</p><p> </p><p>Yassen knelt down, and looked at the glass on the floor before shifting his attention to Alex’s bloody hands.</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t mean- I-” Alex stutters, again, voice catching in his throat. The man brought both hands forward and held Alex’s wrists gently. Alex stopped.</p><p> </p><p>This was all getting to be too much. He almost <em>wanted</em> to just talk and talk and just tell the man everything that had happened to him. To stop carrying this weight of events with him. But he <em>couldn’t. </em>His mouth wouldn’t work. He just couldn’t.</p><p> </p><p>Alex glanced up and froze when he saw Yassen was looking at him inquisitively, his faced illuminated with the moonlight. The moment seemed to stretch on longer than it needed to.</p><p> </p><p>Just as Alex was about to murmur more apologies, the man pulled his wrists forward, inspecting the cuts on his palms and the blood that was running down and dripping off his fingers. Yassen’s fingers tightened ever so slightly on his wrists and Alex was worried the man could feel his pulse beating faster and faster.</p><p> </p><p>The man seemed to come to a conclusion and stood up, helping Alex up with him. No words were exchanged as he led Alex towards…..<em>not</em> the bathroom. Alex frowned as the man took him into the master bedroom. The glass on the floor now a distance thought.</p><p> </p><p>Yassen’s room. He barely looked in the room as he was guided to the en-suite.</p><p> </p><p>Alex immediately sat down on the closed toilet seat, his leg aching from the fall that afternoon and from dropping to his knees in the kitchen just then. He was faintly aware that he was just in his boxers and a T-shirt and suddenly felt very exposed.</p><p> </p><p>The next 20 minutes were spent in silence as the man cleaned up Alex’s cuts on his palms. It had stung quite badly but Alex paid it no attention.</p><p> </p><p>The panic in him had now died down and ebbed away. And he almost found himself dreading going back into the spare room. He knew he wouldn’t get any sleep tonight, despite feeling tired after his latest onset of panic. He couldn’t bring himself to ask Yassen to go in the lounge with him, like they had done previously.</p><p> </p><p>Yassen started rubbing some cream into Alex’s hands, soothing the stinging sensation.</p><p> </p><p>“You can stay, if that would make you feel more comfortable,” The man said, as if sensing Alex’s apprehension to be alone tonight. He stood up and turned his back to Alex as he put away the first aid kit.</p><p> </p><p>Alex went to instantly say no, he even had his mouth open ready to say it, but then he paused. Would it be the worst thing in the world to have some company? Surely it beat suffering alone in the spare room.</p><p> </p><p>He frowned, looking through the door of the en-suite over to Yassen’s bed. This was a terrible idea, there was no way he could do this. Had he not been feeling so immeasurably weak he would never have given this a second thought, but here he was….thinking.</p><p> </p><p>“Get in,” Yassen said, as he helped Alex into a standing position. Alex, meanwhile, was suitably freaking out. Why hadn’t he said no. He could still say no. He berated himself on the walk to the window side of the bed. Yassen had turned and gone back into the en-suite.</p><p> </p><p>Alex stood next to the bed, unsure of what the hell he was doing. He should say no and go to the spare room. His body had a mind of its own as his arm pulled back the covers and then he got in. He instantly got even more frustrated and angry with himself. Why. Why had he got in the bed of a contract killer. What the hell was he doing.</p><p> </p><p>He sat there, back against the plump pillows and felt so unsure of himself. What the actual fuck had he been thinking. He could have said no instead of indulging in some company. He was so stupid. It was a wonder how he hadn’t been killed in life yet.</p><p> </p><p>How could he lay here tonight…. neither of them would get any sleep.</p><p> </p><p>Yassen went over to the desk and started setting up his laptop and grabbed documents out of a draw. A layer of guilt encompassed Alex’s chest. He was kicking the man out of his own bed.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Alex said suddenly without thinking, “I don’t mind if..” he stopped, unsure of how to finish the sentence without it sounding weird or awkward. He was grateful when the man seemed to understand and nodded.</p><p> </p><p>“Get settled, I’ll be back.” And with that the man left the room. Alex’s heart started beating wildly. Unchartered territory. God, what was he doing. A week ago he was in Little Chelsea. Now, here he was, in Norway and about to share a bed with an assassin.</p><p> </p><p>He heard the noise of glass being swept up and another pang of guilt went through him. How many more messes would the man have to clear up because Alex was incapable of functioning properly. <em>Or at all</em>, he bitterly thought.</p><p> </p><p>The man came back in the room and closed the door. Several minutes went by before the lights were turned off and then another tense minute passed before he felt the bed dip slowly on the other side. His whole body tensed and he didn’t even know if he was breathing. God, what had he done. This was possibly his worst idea yet. And he had done <em>a lot</em> of stupid shit over the years.</p><p> </p><p>The bed was big enough that no part of them would even touch. It was fine. It was fine. He chanted in his own head.</p><p> </p><p>He realised he hadn’t taken a breath in a while so he started to take in slow short breaths, not wanting to make a sound. His heart was racing so fast in his chest he knew he’d never be able to sleep. He swallowed and continued his short silent breaths. If the man noticed, he didn’t say anything. Just an awkward layer of tension filled the room. Maybe the man thought the same as him, what a monumental mistake this had been.</p><p> </p><p>Then he felt the covers shift slightly, and a hand reached out and was placed on his chest. Okay, his heart really was going to beat out of his chest and he was –</p><p> </p><p>“Breathe,” the man said, slowly.</p><p> </p><p>Alex’s thoughts stopped in their tracks. He slowly breathed in a huge lungful of air through his nose, easing some of the tension in his chest. And breathed out. The deep breaths helped get his heart rate under control.</p><p> </p><p>The hand stayed on his chest.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t even remember falling asleep.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The next morning Alex woke up slowly. There was no jolt start. No hitched breathing. No panic. No nightmares.</p><p> </p><p>He was only barely awake and on the verge of dropping back into sleep again. He was unbelievably comfortable and calm as he relaxed into the warmth and comfort. His forehead was pressed against something warm and he burrowed closer to the source. His legs were up against the source of warmth too. His brain felt muddled and fuzzy, as he was drifting off to sleep again.</p><p> </p><p>He had to stifle a groan when the warmth shuffled away and left the bed entirely.</p><p> </p><p>He heard near silent footsteps leave the room. He burrowed deeper into the blanket. God, he hadn’t felt like this in so <em>so</em> long.</p><p> </p><p>Moments later the door opened. He wasn’t expecting that.</p><p> </p><p>He heard a glass be set down next to him.</p><p> </p><p>He could feel himself drifting back into sleep again. He hadn’t been this relaxed <em>ages</em>. After a few deep breaths he was gone.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The next time he woke up he was more aware of his surroundings. He rubbed at his eyes as he slowly sat up and looked around the room. <em>Yassen’s room.</em></p><p> </p><p>His heart lurched as last night came flooding back to him. He groaned, heat rising up his neck. He’d slept in Yassen’s bed. Like a toddler who’d had a nightmare. He looked over to the clock and was surprised to see that it was midday. Where was the man? And why had he allowed Alex to stay in bed until midday? The man was still an enigma to him.</p><p> </p><p>He stretched his arms and decided now was a good time as any to get up. The storm had passed and sun streamed in through the window.</p><p> </p><p>Later in the afternoon he was still thinking of the previous night. He thought that he should feel embarrassed but he could no longer bring himself to feel that way. He actually felt well rested, and that was such a foreign feeling to him that he didn’t know what to do with himself.</p><p> </p><p>He looked over to Yassen and asked “Gym?”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>That evening, after they had returned from the gym, Alex lay on the sofa reading the Hobbit again. Yassen was in the kitchen cooking and there was soft music playing throughout the cabin. Alex couldn’t help but wonder how outrageously <em>domestic</em> this all was.</p><p> </p><p>At the end of his chapter, he got up and slowly made his way over to the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>“Dinner smells good.” Alex said, perching on the high stool.</p><p> </p><p>A ghost of a smile flashed across Yassen’s face.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And there we have it – I hope it lived up to the wait! </p><p>I love cold!Yassen but there’s something oddly comforting about seeing his softer side, especially when it comes to Alex. But....seeing as I made him stab Alex in my other fic I figured I need to overcompensate with caring Yassen here.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>